What the Departed Teach the Breathing: Notes from the Edge of Forever.
Bismillahir-Rahmaanir-Raheem
In the name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful.
We give thanks to Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful. We thank Him, we seek His blessings upon the Prophet Muhammad (peace and blessings be upon him), his household, his companion and the entire Muslim Ummah.
It is Allah alone who breathes life into clay, who fashions souls from nothingness, and who determines the moment when each soul shall return to Him. He is the Creator of life and the Ordainer of death, the One who holds absolute dominion over existence itself. In His infinite wisdom, He has decreed that every living being shall experience the transition from this temporal world to the hereafter. No power can delay His decree, no force can alter His divine timeline, and no soul can escape the appointment that has been written for it since before the foundation of the world was laid.
It is He who grants us breath each morning and may choose to reclaim it before evening falls. It is He who allows our hearts to beat in rhythm with His divine will, and it is He who, in His perfect timing, will still those same hearts when our earthly purpose has been fulfilled. This absolute sovereignty over life and death is not merely a theological concept—it is the living reality that governs every moment of our existence, though we often live as though we are the architects of our own destiny.
Like the changing seasons that mark the passage of time, death arrives as the final chapter in every human story, yet we live as though our pages are infinite. It is in moments of loss that the veil of worldly preoccupation is lifted, and we are confronted with the stark reality of our shared destiny. The news of a departure, the silence where once there was laughter, the empty chair at the family table—these become profound teachers, reminding us that our sojourn on this earth is but a temporary assignment, a test of character, a preparation for what lies beyond.
The Inevitable Departure
Death—a word that carries within it the weight of finality, the echo of eternity. Today, I find myself compelled to speak of this universal truth that touches every soul, for it is death that gives meaning to life, and life that gives poignancy to death.
There exists no force more certain, no appointment more punctual, than death’s eventual arrival. It moves through our world like a gentle but persistent wind, touching the young and the old, the prepared and the unprepared, the celebrated and the forgotten. In its wake, it leaves behind a tapestry of grief—hearts that must learn to beat differently, voices that must learn to speak around the silence, and souls that must learn to carry love in the form of memory.
Recently, the news of a junior colleague’s passing from my secondary school days arrived like an unexpected storm. The trembling that seized my limbs, the hollowness that settled in my chest—these were not merely reactions to loss, but recognitions of our shared fragility. In that moment, I felt as though I had lost a sibling, for are we not all connected by the threads of mortality that bind the human family together?
“Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji’un” —”To Allah we belong, and to Him we shall return.”
I whispered these words as I prayed for Allah to grant her mercy, to expand her grave, to welcome her into His paradise, and to forgive all her shortcomings. For in death, we are reminded that our ultimate accountability lies not with this world, but with our Creator.
The Pattern of Grief and Forgetting
In recent times, we have witnessed the departure of many notable souls—teachers whose wisdom shaped generations, scholars whose insights illuminated minds, celebrities, athletes and countless others whose contributions enriched our collective human experience. Each departure creates ripples of sadness that spread through communities, leaving behind a bittersweet mixture of gratitude and loss.
Yet here lies one of life’s most profound mysteries: the resilience of the human spirit in the face of loss. We mourn deeply, we grieve genuinely, we feel the sharp pain of absence—and then, gradually, inevitably, we continue forward. The family that loses a beloved member will spend days, weeks, perhaps months in the depths of sorrow, but eventually they must tend to the living children, manage the affairs of daily existence, and rebuild their routines around the new reality.
This is not callousness; it is survival. It is the divine wisdom embedded in human nature that allows us to carry our dead in our hearts while still embracing the living with our arms. Yet sometimes, in quiet moments, we are struck by the sobering realization that one day, others will read the news of our own departure with the same mixture of shock and sadness, and they too will eventually move forward, carrying our memory as we now carry the memories of those who have gone before.
Dreams in the Shadow of Mortality
We dream with the passion of the eternal, though we live with the limitations of the temporary. Our aspirations stretch toward distant horizons—careers to build, families to nurture, goals to achieve, legacies to leave. We plan as though we have decades ahead of us, hope as though our time is guaranteed, and strive as though our efforts alone determine our outcomes.
This is both the beauty and the tragedy of human existence: we must dream knowing that our dreams may remain unfulfilled, we must hope knowing that our hopes may be cut short, and we must plan knowing that our plans rest ultimately in hands other than our own.
Yet this awareness of mortality should not paralyze us or steal the joy from our aspirations. Instead, it should infuse our dreams with greater purpose, our efforts with deeper meaning, and our time with more intentional love. For if our days are numbered—and they are—then each day becomes precious, each moment sacred, each opportunity for good a gift not to be wasted.
The Divine Decree and Human Responsibility
The Quran reminds us that
“No soul can die except by Allah’s permission at a predetermined time” (3:145).
This places our mortality within the framework of Allah’s perfect knowledge and wisdom. The span of our lives, the circumstances of our departure, the legacy we leave behind—all of these have been written by the same Hand that fashioned our souls and breathed life into our bodies.
This knowledge should bring us peace, not fatalism. It should inspire us to live with greater purpose, not lesser effort. For while we cannot control the length of our days, we can influence their depth. While we cannot determine when our story will end, we can shape its content with every choice we make, every prayer we offer, every act of kindness we perform.
The uncertainty of our departure should motivate us to seek Allah’s forgiveness daily, for we know not which sunset will be our last. It should compel us to honor our parents while they are still with us, for their prayers are among the most powerful forces in this world and the next. It should encourage us to engage in righteous deeds, to stand against injustice, to be steadfast in our prayers, faithful in our fasting, and constant in our remembrance of Allah.
The Gentle Reminder
In the end, we are all travelers on the same journey, walking different paths toward the same destination. Some of us will complete the journey sooner, others later, but none of us knows which group we belong to. This uncertainty is not meant to cause us anxiety, but to inspire us to live with greater consciousness, love with greater intensity, and worship with greater devotion.
The news of death that we read today about others will one day be read about us. The prayers that we offer for the departed will one day be offered for us. The mercy that we hope Allah will show to those who have passed before us is the same mercy we will one day need for ourselves.
Until that appointed time arrives, we have work to do, love to give, forgiveness to seek, and a Creator to worship. We have parents to honor, communities to serve, and souls to nurture. We have prayers to maintain, fasts to observe, and hearts to keep steadfast upon the straight path.
For in the end, it is not the length of our story that matters, but its beauty. Not the number of our days, but their quality. Not our permanence in this world, but our preparation for the next.
And Allah knows best.
May Allah grant mercy to all who have departed before us, patience to those who grieve, and guidance to those who remain. Aameen.
By Abdulmalik Yakub
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